


The Morning After

by peter_torks_legs



Category: The Monkees, The Monkees (TV)
Genre: Angst, Drunk Sex, Fluff, Hangover, Implied Sexual Content, Kissing, M/M, Morning After, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-09-28 13:47:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17184131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peter_torks_legs/pseuds/peter_torks_legs
Summary: When Mike wakes up in Peter's bed, he faces some conflicting feelings.(contains no actual sex)





	The Morning After

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes its refreshing to not have to write full blown smut.

The first thing Mike noticed when he woke up was a terrible pain in his head. It felt like there was full grown elephant sitting on top of it, and when he tried to open his eyes, the pain just pulsed even worse. Immediately, he knew this was one of his hangover-headaches, which was accompanied by a most delightful side dish of nausea with some aching muscles to go along with it. 

It took him a good ten minutes before he could even be bothered to try opening his eyes again, and he squinted in the morning light once he had accomplished this task. He just felt like shit all around, and it didn't help that he never dealt with hangovers very well. It was a miracle that he wasn't even running for the bathroom with a lurching stomach yet. 

Oh well, he thought as he closed his eyes and turned onto his side. At least my window doesn't face the sun in the morning...

Except for right now?

Mike's eyes shot open, but he groaned as the sun shone directly into them. What was going on? Had his house suddenly rotated 180º overnight? Or could it have been...?

"Am I dead?" he asked, sitting up slowly and carefully. 

"Hardly."

Mike jumped when he heard another voice, and looked over to the door of the bedroom (which he now realized wasn't his) to see a chuckling Peter Tork. 

"Good morning," he said cheerfully, carrying full plate of breakfast food over to the bed that Mike sat in. 

"...mornin'."

"I figured you might be hungry, so I made you some breakfast. You must've worked up quite an appetite last night. I know I did."

Mike just gave a confused look at him, not sure what he meant by that. He was too busy wrapping his head around the fact that he had just woken up in Peter's house. And in Peter's bed. What was going on?

"I didn't know how you like your eggs so I just made them scrambled," Peter said, setting the tray down on Mike's lap. The Texan looked down at it, seeing bacon, eggs, toast, sliced strawberries, even a cup of hot coffee. 

God, it made him feel sick. 

Suddenly, his stomach lurched, and he pointed to his mouth to signal that he was about to vomit. 

"Ah, shit." Peter sprang into action, quickly setting the tray aside and helping him up to get him into the bathroom. Mike immediately ran for the toilet, falling to his knees just in time to empty the contents of his stomach into the porcelain bowl instead of all over the floor. 

"Christ..." he groaned, still with his head in the toilet even after he had finished. He felt something being draped around his shoulders, and looked back to see Peter placing a bathrobe around him with sympathetic eyes. He wondered why, until he looked down and saw that he was completely naked. "What the hell?" He suddenly jumped up from the floor, instantly regretting it as his stomach churned. 

"What? What's wrong?" Peter looked genuinely confused, but also concerned as he made sure the bathrobe stayed over Mike's shoulders. 

"What's wrong?!" Mike reiterated. "I'm naked! And I just woke up in your bed!"

Peter just stared at him for a moment, almost in disbelief, until his face fell and he looked down at the floor. "So you don't remember." His voice was almost a whisper. "I should've known. I was drunk but you were even drunker..."

“What?” Mike’s voice had softened now, not only because Peter’s had but because he wasn’t sure he could take much more yelling without throwing up again. When Peter didn’t answer, he frowned, tying the bathrobe around himself to cover up before placing two hands on Peter’s shoulders. “Peter. Please tell me what’s goin' on.”

Peter looked up at him with guilty eyes, which only made Mike even more curious and a bit worried. “Let’s go sit down somewhere. I’ll explain everything.” 

They headed out to the kitchen, where they sat across from each other at the table. Peter had fixed them both another cup of coffee, and now sat idly stirring it with a spoon. 

“Michael, what’s the last thing you remember before waking up this morning?” 

Mike had to pause and think, looking around a bit. He spotted his favorite acoustic guitar, lying on the couch in the living room a good twenty feet away, and that triggered a memory. 

“Well…I remember comin' over here to your place. We were gonna try n' finish up a song we'd been workin' on.”

Peter nodded. “Yeah. What else?”

Continuing to scan the area of the living space, Mike could make out a good number of empty beer bottles strewn about; they were on the coffee table, the floor, the couch, even the window sill. 

“Jesus. We got stinkin' drunk, didn’t we?” 

“Yep,” Peter sighed. “You got drunker than I did, which I should’ve thought of before I…”

Mike quirked an eyebrow. “Before you what?”

“Nothing,” Peter shook his head. “Just keep going. Can you remember what happened after we got drunk?” He had an almost hopeful look on his face. 

Mike tried to think. He tried so hard, but he just couldn’t remember. What had happened? Why did Peter seem to be feeling so guilty about it? Now Mike was starting to realize that this was serious, and it made him feel sick all over again. 

“Nothing coming to mind?” Peter asked when Mike gave no answer. “Alright. Maybe this'll jog your memory.” 

The next thing Mike knew, Peter was standing up and walking over to him with a determined look on his face. He bent down in front of Mike, held his face in both hands, and planted a kiss right on his lips. 

Mike didn’t even move. He couldn’t. He wasn’t sure why, but he just couldn’t. Then, the memories began flooding back into his head. They showed him engaged in a passionate, heated kiss on the floor with Peter, then the two of them stumbling eagerly up the stairs and into the bedroom. He saw himself falling back onto the bed, and Peter crawling on top of him, and the blond man feverishly tearing Mike’s clothes off, then his own. And then he saw…

Oh, god. 

“We fucked?” he suddenly blurted out, not even embarrassed by the sudden obsceneness of his statement. No, he had much more to be concerned about. 

Peter nodded in guilt, taking a seat across the table again and looking down at his hands. “I shouldn’t have let it happen. You were so drunk, I should’ve known better. I can’t believe I just took advantage of you like that…”

Mike was about to flat-out agree with that. He wasn’t a queer, that was for damn sure. Never in his right state of mind would he have let a man touch him the way Peter had, kiss him the way Peter had, even look at him the way Peter had. It was so wrong. All of it was so fucked up and wrong. This was the kind of thing he used to laugh about with his friends in high school, never something he had ever considered doing. Even worse, he was married! Phyllis was the most wonderful woman he knew. How could he have betrayed her trust like this? And with a man, no less? He couldn’t believe it, any of it. 

But an avalanche of thoughts was tumbling through Mike’s head. He could suddenly remember every detail of the night before. He could remember how Peter’s lips had felt, the noises Mike had made, how he had begged for more, how Peter had felt inside of him. 

How good it had felt.

How right it had felt. 

He was so confused. It wasn’t right to feel this way, was it? It wasn’t right to suddenly realize he wanted to feel it all happen again. What was wrong with him? Why did he want it so badly all of a sudden?

Peter, who was still sitting across the table, noticed the way Mike silently stared at the table, and grew concerned. “Michael…?” he asked hesitantly. “Are you alright?”

Mike looked up at him and instantly regretted it. Why did Peter have to look so damn good all the time? Even with a worried face, Mike wanted to grab him and kiss him until they were both breathless. But, no. No, it was wrong. “I…I dunno,” was all he was able to say. 

“Look, Michael, I'm-“

“It’s okay.” When he looked up again, he saw Peter looking utterly shocked. “Everything's okay. Let’s just…forget this ever happened, alright?” With this, he stood up and headed for the front door, where he located his shoes and jacket and grabbed both. 

He felt Peter touch his shoulder from behind. “Michael-“

“Don’t touch me!” the Texan snapped, spinning around to face him. “Keep your hands off me! I ain’t queer! Never was, never will be! Readin' me loud and clear?”

“I am, but-“

“And furthermore, this didn’t mean anything! It was just drunk fuckin', so don’t get any funny ideas!”

He could tell he had just hurt Peter deep inside, judging by the way his eyes grew glassy and saddened. A tiny voice in the back of his mind told him to hug the blond man close and tell him he was sorry, to kiss him and whisper sweet nothings to him. He tried to squash that voice with a mental boot.

When Peter spoke again, it was quiet and timid, his hand actually shaking slightly as he lifted it to gesture to Mike. “Are you…are you planning on going anywhere like that?” 

Looking down at himself, Mike realized he was still in only the bathrobe Peter had wrapped around him earlier. “Oh, for Christ's sake!” he groaned, dropping his coat and shoes and sliding to the floor with his back pressed against the front door. He landed with his knees pulled up to his chest and his head buried in his hands. He himself didn’t even know why he wasn’t retrieving his clothes so he could leave already. Something was making him stay. Without thinking, he launched into another, albeit calmer rant as Peter just stood before him, completely lost. 

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” he said. “It’s like I can’t believe we really did all that last night. I’ve never even looked at a man in that way before. I’m not a queer. I know for a fact that I’m not. I like women. I love my wife. God, I love her so much…but I-“ He cut himself off, not sure of what was going to come out of he didn’t stop himself. Peter still had yet to say something, and Mike couldn’t even bring himself to look at the older man. “I liked it. There, I said it. I liked what we did last night, and I wanna do it again. I wanna kiss you and touch you and feel your body against mine and hear you whisper in my ear, tellin’ me how good it feels and sayin’ all those dirty things. I want it all, god dammit.” 

There was no response. The silence was torturous, but still, Mike couldn't look up. Suddenly, he felt two hands gently placing themselves on either side of his face, lifting his head up. He saw Peter crouching in front of him, his eyes soft and understanding as he gazed into Mike’s own. 

“You can have it, Michael,” he said in a tender voice, stroking Mike’s cheek with his thumb. “You can have all of it. I want you to be happy, can’t you see? Whether that means us just staying friends, or making love all over again, I’ll go along with it. I would do anything for you.” 

Mike couldn’t help closing his eyes and leaning slightly into Peter’s touch, considering all of his kind and understanding words. Why did he have to be so nice all the time? His thoughts were interrupted when Peter spoke again in that deep, soothing voice.

“I just need you to tell me what you want…”

Slowly, Mike opened his eyes and found Peter’s face was now only mere inches away from his own. He knew what he wanted. He knew exactly what he wanted. Leaning forward, he allowed their lips to brush together, and when Peter didn’t protest, he went in for a fuller, more satisfying kiss. It felt so unbelievably good, and he made a soft noise into Peter’s mouth as the blond kissed back. When he found himself being lifted from the floor and wrapped tightly in Peter’s strong arms, he instantly melted, feeling like a teenage girl swooning in the arms of her boyfriend. He was in absolute heaven. 

When Peter gently pulled his lips away, Mike gave a small noise in disappointment and tried to move in for another kiss. Peter just chuckled and leaned his head back, preventing their lips from touching but still holding Mike tightly. “You’re wonderful,” he said, gently tucking Mike’s hair behind his ear on one side. “Why don’t you stay here for a while longer? We can kiss and cuddle as much as you want.” 

Now that was an offer Mike couldn't turn down. Smiling, he nodded and agreed. “Let’s go back to bed.” 

Grinning, Peter slipped one arm around his waist and led him back upstairs, where they ended up under the covers of his big bed. Mike lay on top of him, kissing all over his face and causing Peter to giggle and squeeze him tightly. It all felt so right and so relaxing just to be in Peter’s arms. He forgot all about everything else; his sexuality, his wife and kid, his responsibilities. All that mattered was this moment right here, right now, and he wasn’t about to trade it for the world. 

Finally, he knew where he belonged.


End file.
